


This Too Shall Last

by interabang



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-13 23:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19260922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interabang/pseuds/interabang
Summary: Gamora through the years with each of her family members. Written forgamoraweek. Thank you for organizing this!





	1. Day One: Survivor

The _Quadrant’s_ training room has seen better days, though Gamora won’t begin to guess when they were. Dusty mats lie haphazardly stacked in the corner, the free weights are scattered around the room, and one of the exercise machines has been ripped apart, gears and bolts strewn everywhere. Gamora’s not sure whether that’s one of the former Ravagers’ work, or Rocket’s.

She sighs, pulling her hair up into a makeshift knot before she picks up the nearest weight. She tests it out, then places it on the rack. Then, after she stands in the center of the room for a moment, she leans down to pick up another weight.

Then another.

 _You don’t have to put everything back in order_ , she tells herself, even as she discards a handful of screws into the trash bin. _You don’t have to make it look like..._

She closes her eyes, willing herself not to think of the stainless steel walls she hated seeing every day – yet still called ‘home,’ once.

She stands there, trying to push past memories of clean surfaces and an organized training room. She would have been startled when the door to the training room swings open, if she hadn’t heard the heavy, measured footfalls which she knew could only be associated with one person on the ship.

“Drax,” she says, picking up another weight and placing it on the rack. “Thought you were asleep.”

“I couldn’t,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Groot keeps waking me up, begging me for more candy.”

Gamora wouldn’t have been able to tell a couple months ago, but there’s a deliberate pause between some of his words. He’s lying.

She gestures to the room, half of it still in disarray. “Want to help me clean the rest of this up?”

“No.”

She’s about to roll her eyes, but Drax uncrosses his arms and silently heads over to the pile of mats.

He carries them out without another word, and Gamora smiles as the door swings shut behind him.

When he returns with the dust shaken from all the mats, Gamora has the training room back into relative order. The broken machine is unsalvageable, but Gamora isn’t really here for that.

As if he knows what she’d been thinking, Drax places the mats down, rearranging them into a square at the center of the room. Gamora helps him put half the mats into place, and then, when they stand up, Gamora knows why he had lied to her.

“Don’t make this too easy for me,” she says as she walks on top of the mat over to one end, and Drax saunters over to the other side. She’s partly trying to lighten the mood, something she’s picked up from Peter – and she’s partly trying to warn Drax.

He nods, and they both do a quick warm up stretch on opposite sides of the mat.

Then, when they meet in the middle, Gamora throws a punch right at his face.

It’s been a while since either of them have fought hand-to-hand. Gamora’s used her sword a fair number of times, but the past two months she’s spent with the Guardians has mostly comprised of flying in the _Milano_ , searching for lost people or items, and providing intel for Nova Corps. Gamora’s muscle memory takes over, and she dodges Drax’s blows, dropping down to sweep his legs out from under him, and she almost catches him off guard.

He evades the move and, in the back of her head, she hears, _You’re getting soft, Daughter. In more ways than one._

She shoves the thought aside as she rolls over on the mat, just in time to avoid Drax body slamming on her.

 _You should have left them long ago. They will only make you weaker,_ the voice whispers at her as she flips back up onto her feet. She tries to kick Drax off the mat when he stumbles, off balance, and she –

Remembers Nebula, the first time they faced each other in Thanos’s arena. Nebula, terrified and looking so much smaller than she had during regular training. Her wide eyes are plaintive as Gamora, also a child, rains blows on her with her wooden sword. Because Gamora cannot afford to be a disappointment.

“Please,” Nebula sobbed as she curled into a ball on the floor, “Please don’t!”

Gamora, barely four years older than when she left – was taken from her planet – raised her weapon as Thanos watched. Gamora, her once round cheeks now flat, her spine taut and her hearing changed, _improved_ – brought down her wooden sword.

In the training room, on the _Quadrant,_ Gamora hesitates.

Her right foot lands on the mat incorrectly.

And she falls, _hard_ , the wind knocked out of her as she slams down on the mat.

She gasps, tears springing to her eyes not because of the pain, but because of the memories that won’t stop. She’d seen Nebula dragged away, and brought back to the same arena to face her with a metallic arm. She’d seen, out of the corner of her eye, her people gunned down. She didn’t even know what happened to her parents’ bodies. Were they buried with her grandparents? Do they know peace now? Does Nebula?

She sobs, hating herself for letting Drax see her like this. And she lies on the mat, curled up on her side, hating the room and all its newly refined _order_ , and hating Drax for being here with her, hating herself for losing, but most of all, hating herself for making it this far.

After a long time, the tears subside, and Gamora blinks, looking up.

Drax is standing above her, holding a clean towel out toward her, along with a bottle of water.

Wordlessly, unable to even speak with her hoarse throat, she takes the water, wondering how he could stand to see her like this. She’s supposed to be the strong one. She’s never fallen apart this way in front of the others. She needs to maintain control, or at least the appearance of it.

She expects Drax to leave as she gulps down water, but he stays.

And he doesn’t say anything.

Then, as Gamora lowers the bottle, wiping her lip as she takes the towel from his outstretched hand, she realizes that he had needed this as well.

He talks frequently and openly about Hovat and Kamaria fondly, with pride and love. But she knows that he too, also can’t shake his regret. His guilt at surviving when his family did not.

As she slowly gets to her feet, Gamora doesn’t know what to say to him.

So, she simply says, “Thank you,” and he nods before they leave the training room.


	2. Day Two: Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamora and Mantis have a late-night chat.

She’s always preferred running at night whenever she’s planetside, and with Lumin’s twin moons surrounded by stars, lighting her way back to the _Quadrant,_ this is the first time she’s felt at peace in days.  She focuses on the rhythmic sound of her footfalls on the dirt path, winding between two fields. Other than her feet, she can only hear the regulated thrum of her heartbeat, the nocturnal insects buzzing in the fields around her.

The Guardians had just finished the hard part of their first mission after… well, Gamora didn’t like to think about Ego, but it’s an experience she’ll never forget. Gamora had picked the mission, making sure it wasn’t dangerous, but that it would yield enough units for them to live comfortably for a week. It had been a simple job of gathering rare minerals in the nearby caves, and after a long day of manual labor – and Rocket’s incessant grousing – most of the crew was so exhausted, they had all retired to their quarters. Dinner had been, as usual, a solemn affair. They’re all still reeling from losing Yondu – especially Peter. Gamora knows they would have to find the _Milano_ on Berhert, and either try to get it repaired, or use its spare parts to build another M-ship for the crew. It would have to be larger, considering the addition of their newest member.

Who, Gamora notices as she nears the _Quadrant_ , is sitting right on top of it.

“Mantis!” she cries out in alarm, launching into a sprint until she reaches the docking bay. She cranes her neck up high, letting out a huff of frustration as Mantis gazes up at the night sky, sitting one on of the ‘wings’ close to the bridge. She hugs her knees to her chest, and suddenly, Gamora remembers how she used to sit like that outside her hut as a child, gaping up at the stars and wondering if she would ever venture forth into space.  
  
_A lot of good those dreams did_ , Gamora thinks, then shakes herself out of her reverie.

She waves her arms around, feeling a bit idiotic. “Mantis!” she calls out again.

The woman on the ships jumps a little, then lowers her head. “Gamora?” she calls down. “Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” Gamora shouts. “What are you doing? And how did you even get up there?”

There’s a long pause, and Mantis says, “I climbed.”

Gamora sighs. She starts to look for a foothold on the ship, but with her hands resting on the ship, with the moonlight shining on her, she realizes just how ridiculous she’s being.

So she goes into the docking bay and finds an airlock near the bridge.

Stepping carefully around the areas of metal that looked like they were threatening to rust, Gamora eventually makes her way to Mantis as she stares up at the stars.

“You’re more fearless than I thought,” Gamora points out, slightly out of breath with the exertion of only having navigated a short distance on the ship. She both surprised, and belatedly, a little irritated at herself for not attempting the climb.

“I wanted to see the stars,” Mantis said, her dark eyes shining as Gamora settles down next to her. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

Gamora winces. Throughout the past two weeks, Mantis has a habit of proclaiming nearly everything as ‘beautiful’ or ‘lovely,’ with Drax following up with a retort about her own appearance. Gamora had attempted to curb Drax’s insults once, but clearly, she hadn’t done a good job of it since it’s immediately what came to mind.

“Mantis,” Gamora says, choosing her words carefully, “If you’re bothered by Drax insulting you, I can put him in a headlock until he apologizes and promises to stop.”

“Oh, no!” Mantis says, turning her head to face Gamora. “Please don’t! He is not insulting me. He says he is just telling the truth.”

“The truth,” Gamora grinds out between her teeth, “is that I will break his arms if he says that to you again.” She’s long since accepted Drax as a member of her new family, and after their sparring session, she feels closer to him than ever.

But she won’t allow him to speak ill of Mantis.

“You do not have to do that,” Mantis says, reaching forward as if to put her hand on Gamora as she pleads with her. When Gamora quickly leans away, Mantis’s hand falters, and she pulls it back toward herself, cradling it with her other, as though her hand were a separate entity.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “Being with all of you... makes me forget about my own powers sometimes.”

“It’s not you,” Gamora says quickly. “It’s... It’s me.” The last time Mantis had used her powers on Gamora, it felt horrible. The worst Gamora had felt in a long time. It wasn’t the fear, itself that had disturbed Gamora – it was the loss of control.

“Then,” Mantis says slowly, lowering her hands to her lap, “would you mind telling me how you feel?”

Gamora hesitates. She hasn’t spoken directly Mantis for longer than three sentences since... she joined the crew. Mantis reminds Gamora of a child often, but unlike Groot, Mantis is more complicated and unpredictable. Gamora also realizes why she’s been avoiding Mantis most of the time.

She draws in a breath, and then, rolling her shoulders slightly as she turns to face Mantis, she says:

“I’m scared of you. I’m scared I’ll run into you, and you’ll feel my emotions, and blurt them out for everyone to hear. But it’s not just that. I’m worried about Peter; he’s not eating as regularly as he used to. I’m scared we’ll lose Groot one day, since he’s so small and tends to run off. I’m worried we won’t find the _Milano_ , our first ship. I’m worried about morale, and how long our supplies will last after we get paid for this mission. I’m… I’m worried about Nebula. She’s on a suicide mission to go after our… after Thanos, who’s even _more_ evil than Ego, and I just… I want her to be okay. I want that for all of us.”

Gamora falls silent, emotionally drained, and there’s a long stretch of silence. A breeze blows past them, making Mantis shiver slightly as Gamora sits next to her, completely still.

When Gamora supposes she had shared too much, she starts to get up to head back to the airlock.

“How can there be someone who is _more_ evil than Ego?” Mantis asks when Gamora stands up.

She’s so surprised _that’s_ Mantis’s response, half of a laugh catches in her throat. “He forced me, Nebula, and other children to fight each other so we could become better assassins for his ‘cause.’ Whoever lost would get a body part replaced.”

Mantis gasps as Gamora averts her eyes, dreading her next question. “How awful... But, did he kill any of the children? Because Ego killed his, and...” a look of complete misery falls over Mantis’s face as she relives the moments Gamora knows will stay with her forever. “I think that’s the most horrible thing anyone could do.”

“Good point,” Gamora says, relieved to not be asked why Nebula had more modifications than she did. “That _is_  horrible. Let’s just say they would both win the Worst Fath... Worst Person Ever award.”

Mantis looks up at her, scrunching her face as she asks, “There’s an award for that? Why?”

Gamora shakes her head in amusement, despite their morbid discussion. “Good point. Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

 

 

The next morning, when Gamora enters the dining area after her workout, she sees Peter sitting with Mantis. He doesn’t look like he got much sleep the night before, but he does look better. More present.

“Where’s Drax?” Mantis asks, looking a little worried.

He appears behind Gamora, no broken bones in sight, and nods at Mantis.

“Good morning,” he says, without any insults, and settles down at his usual place on the table while Rocket, Groot, and Kraglin trail in.

Gamora shares a knowing smile with Mantis.


	3. Day Three: Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamora and the Guardians rescue a group of hostages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Despite this taking place after Vol. 2, the Gamora & Peter interaction is meant to be more platonic than romantic. I wanted to note that he does say something that could be read as slightly flirtatious.

Blaster fire ignites across the enemy’s stronghold, and Gamora dodges a beam of it from the opposite side without a second thought.

She rolls easily under the smoldering wreckage of the enemy’s ships. Then, when one of them makes the foolish mistake of getting too close, firing wildly at one of the others across the battlements, she sees her opening.

Gamora rises, Godslayer in her hand.

She makes them fall, one by one, slicing and spinning, ignoring their curses and cries. They’ve captured innocents, and before the Guardians can rescue them, Gamora will make these lowlifes pay.

“We’re clear,” she shouts into her comm link after surveying the area for any other threats. “Now, Rocket!”

“All right, all right, you don’t gotta yell,” he grumbles back into her ear.

The locked door to the hostages across the keep is blown apart as the _Benatar_ zooms over the tower. Gamora can hear faint cheering from the other Guardians, though the smoke and debris blocks her view of them.

Gamora races toward the smoldering wreckage as she sheaths her sword. “Cover me,” she orders the others, and barrels in between the red-hot metal walls.

She locates the hostages quickly, and thinks _This is too easy_ as the others join her, helping the dozen or so wounded hostages up and guiding them back out onto the cleared battlefield.

“Shit,” Rocket mutters as he lands the _Benatar_ down on top of a couple corpses. “That’s more than I thought.”

“Then we need to make this fast,” Gamora replies as she picks up one of the wounded women as she cries, clutching her arm tightly to her.

Gamora carries her onto the ship through the docking bay, as Groot toddles toward her from the cockpit. Each of the others has a hostage with them, and Gamora settles the woman gently down on her feet after checking whether she can stand.

“My sister,” the woman cries out, “Where is she?”

“I’ll bring her aboard next,” Gamora promises, “She’ll be –”

An explosion rattles the _Benatar_ , Gamora instantly plants her feet firm to the ground, but the woman next to her falls over, calling out her sister’s name.

Rocket lets out a string of curses in Gamora’s ear, as the other hostages cry out in panic.

Gamora looks over toward the doors, which are slowly starting to shut. Peter is standing near them, having helped an older woman onto the ship.

He looks like he’s about to say something, but stops.

Then he activates his mask and darts out through the closing doors.

“Peter!” Gamora cries out, but the doors shut, cutting her off, and the _Benatar_ starts to rise.

Gamora races toward the cockpit, dodging an injured hostage and Groot. She nearly collides into the table in the common area when another explosion grazes the _Benatar_ , but she slides across it, muting her comm link as the ship continues to rise.

“What are you doing?” she cries out when she finally reaches Rocket.

He ignores her, rapidly tapping his screen.

The ship lurches to the side, and Gamora clings onto the back of Rocket’s chair.

“Turn back. _Now_ ,” Gamora says.

“Quill’s too hard to kill,” Rocket replies, his small fingers flying across the display. “He’ll figure some way out.”

“And what about the hostages?”

Rocket doesn’t answer.

“Oh, no. Not this time,” Gamora says, mostly to herself as she moves toward Peter’s seat, reaching forward to tap his screen.

Before she can input his password, Gamora hears the sound of a taser cocking.

She slowly turns back to face Rocket as he aims his taser at her.

Time seems to freeze, then. A second of silence dragging out into what feels like minutes to Gamora. She stares at the barrel of the taser, almost curiously, and then her gaze shifts toward Rocket.

“I got it on the low setting this time,” he says, almost gently. “You’ll only be out for an hour.”

Gamora shakes her head. “They’ll die.”

“We got a couple of them out. Better than none.”

Gamora inhales, slowly.

“It’s not enough,” she says, and without looking at the screen, she types _Meredith_.

Rocket pulls the trigger.

And nothing happens.

Rocket stares at the taser in bewilderment, then darts his eyes toward Gamora.

She shifts control of the ship over to her panel.

And she steers the _Benatar_ back to the enemy’s base.

 

The Guardians drop off all of the hostages, scarred and injured but alive, in their village.

Before she leaves, the woman whom Gamora had carried grabs onto her arm, and the woman looks right at Gamora, blinking through her tears.

“Thank you,” she whispers, “Not for saving me, but for going back for her.”

Gamora’s line of sight moves toward the woman’s young sister, as she skips off the docking ramp, with Groot perched on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” the woman says again, and Gamora shifts her weight onto one foot as she awkwardly pats the woman’s back.

“Take care of each other,” is all she can think of to say, and the woman gives her a watery smile as she nods, then turns to walk off the ramp.

“Now _that_ ,” Gamora hears at her side, “was some seriously excellent flying. Thank you.”

Gamora doesn’t know whether to laugh, or groan. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed, Peter. Again.”

He grins at her as Mantis and Drax head off the ship. “Well, I don’t have to worry about that when I’ve got my knight in shining armor to come rescue me.”

“Even if I did wear armor, it would be a tactical weakness to make it shine,” Gamora says with a scowl, and Peter lets out a laugh, walking off the ramp backwards so he can face her.

“Good think you don’t need it, then.”

Gamora sighs. She senses Rocket sidle up beside her as she watches the others congregate with the villagers, welcoming their loved ones.

“So,” Rocket says. “How’d you deactivate it when I wasn’t lookin’?”

Gamora maintains her focus on the villagers. “How do you think I became an assassin?”

Rocket snorts. “Okay, you got me there.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she says. “You’re thinking, poor sentimental Gamora. One miscalculation and I could’ve flown us right into one of the re-enforcement ships. I could’ve gotten us all killed. You’re thinking –”

“I was thinkin’, ‘She’s right,’” Rocket says.

Gamora stops talking, then turns to look at him.

“Me, I make the hard calls,” he says. “But you... that time, you made the right one.”

He slowly makes his way down the ramp, then pauses, peering back at her over his shoulder.

“Don’t touch my stuff again.”

Gamora doesn’t answer, and Rocket doesn’t wait for her to give him one.

It isn’t until he makes his way to the others that Gamora says, “Fair deal.”


	4. Day Four: Villain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Groot runs away, and Gamora looks for him.

“Groot!”

Gamora hacks through a tangle of purple vines before her as she calls out for the young tree again. Desperation overrides her regulated heartbeat, and she suspects that the reason her sword handle slips from her palm isn’t due to the humidity, but her increasing fear.

She tears through the vines, nearly stumbling into a clearing, and she realizes she’s panting with exertion. She holds her breath to listen to the unfamiliar forest, trying to pick out any audible sign of Groot. Instead, she hears various creatures screeching and chattering to each other up in the canopy, and the river to Gamora’s left gushes into a small waterfall less than half a click away. Yet there’s still no sign of him.

She curses herself once again for making him run away.

If you had told Gamora half a year ago, before she met the Guardians, that she would end up here, in a strange forest, panicking over her adopted tree child, she would have… well, probably killed you, because Gamora didn’t speak much to anyone outside of _Sancutary II._ But the thought would have disturbed Gamora at the time. And, at times like this, her parental instinct over Groot concerns her. For a long time, she’d felt like she would never be a parent. She can remember bits and pieces of her own, real parents, but the monster who had taken her from them and thought himself more fitting of the title... did not leave her with much yearning to look after a child herself.

 _You don’t deserve him_ , a part of her whispers to herself now, as it had throughout the past year. When Gamora would water his pot in the first month, when she would smile at him as he cheerfully wiggled in time to Peter’s music, there was a shadow in Gamora’s mind that insisted she would never be a good enough parent for Groot.

She shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the thought as she sheaths Godslayer and backs up against the opening path she’d created. She slides along the perimeter of the clearing, scanning the trees for a shorter one.

 _How could you raise him properly, after all you’ve done? What you did to help_ him _and his self-appointed ‘duty’ to wipe out others?_

“Stop!” Gamora shouts, then, ashamed, bites down on her lip. Tears prick the corners of her eyes – _at least you can still cry; Nebula probably can’t, thanks to you –_ but Gamora refuses to let them fall.

She can’t just stand here, feeling sorry for herself. She has to find him.

She closes her eyes, ignoring the whispering voice in her ear that doesn’t sound like her at all, and she listens.

After a moment, one of the tree branches shake, on the opposite side of the clearing. There’s a deliberate cadence to the shaking, as though a young child were shimmying along the branch.

 _He won’t come out,_ the voice in Gamora’s head insists, _because he knows, deep down, that he’s better off away from you. He knows you’re all in over your heads with him, that you’re all too broken to properly care for him. Especially you._

Gamora keeps her eyes closed, and concentrates on her breathing, like Drax had shown her.

_He knows you’re too much like –_

“Groot, I’m sorry,” she says, her throat almost sore. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I didn’t want you to steal Mantis’s candy again. She bought it with her own share of units, and she was devastated when you took her first bag.

“But I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I just...”

_You’re not fit to be a mother. You’re a murderer, and you find that much easier, don’t you?_

“I thought you knew better, but I should’ve known better too.”

He lands in the center of the clearing right in front of her, and she lets out a choked sob as she breaks out into a smile.

“I am Groot?”

“No,” Gamora says, “You’re not getting kicked out of the Guardians. You –”

She freezes, staring down at him.

He cocks his head to one side. “I am Groot?”

“I think... I think I just understood what you said,” Gamora says slowly, slightly dazed.

He lifts his arms up. “I am Groot!”

Gamora wipes her hand on her jacket sleeve and nods, leaning down to pick him up and take him back to the ship.

He hugs her as they leave the clearing, and Gamora says, “Yeah. I love you, too.”


	5. Day Five: Rebel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamora helps Peter out with a personal mission. And by 'helps,' she pretty much does everything.

“Hey, Gamora,” Peter asks, sitting down next to her in the common area on the _Milano_. “Wanna –”

“No,” she says automatically, “I don’t want to dance.” Although she can’t deny, deep down, that she finds Peter attractive, she won’t tell him that. Not just because it would inflate his head even more, but because she’s not currently in the mood for dancing, or dating, or anything related to that. It’s been a couple weeks since the Guardians became a team – _More than a team_ , she thinks – but she doesn’t think it’s a good idea to give into Peter’s flirtations. He might not want to, in his words, ‘stick around’ after that.

“Oh,” he says, and when she sneaks a quick look over at him, he looks surprised – but not disappointed. “I wasn’t gonna ask you that. I was gonna ask if you wanted to help me steal something.”

“ _What_?” Her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment, which quickly subsides to irritation. “Peter, I thought you were done with that. I don’t want you to... If you get thrown in prison again, that’s another mess we’ll have to clean up.”

“C’mon, it’s not like I’m gonna rob a bank!” he says, laughing a little, then at seeing her disapproving frown, his laughter dies in his throat. “It’s just, well, you’re a lot faster than me, and you could probably make it in and out of the place without being noticed.”

She sighs, already regretting what she’s going to say next.

“Where’s the place?”

 

 

Just before midnight, Gamora finds herself hiding in some bushes next to a twenty story building, gazing up at the highest balcony. They’re not in the central area of Xandar, near the Nova Corps base, but Gamora’s on high alert, making sure they haven’t been spotted.

“It’s way past everyone’s bedtime, so this should be a piece of cake,” Peter whispers.

Ignoring his strange phrase – why would there even be cake involved? – Gamora glares at him. “You better not be lying to me,” she growls. “If I find out you made me hide in some bushes only to climb a twenty story building for a trick...”

She lets the threat linger in the air, but instead of cowering before her like any other person who’s heard of her sordid past, she senses the offended tone in his voice when he speaks:

“I’m telling the truth, honest! Now, I’m gonna go distract the security guard. I canvassed the place earlier, so there’s just one. See you at the rendezvous point. Good luck!”

“Oh, please,” she says, “I don’t need...” she turns to face Peter, but he’s gone.

“Damn you,” she grumbles, then steps out of the bushes to appraise the second floor balcony.

She bends, and then leaps into the air.

She grasps the railing easily, wrapping her hands around it as she smoothly swings her legs over the side.

She lands on the floor of the second story balcony silently, but crouches down, making sure no one inside is stirring.

 

 

When the coast is clear – she berates herself for thinking like Peter, using one of his nonsensical phrases – Gamora slowly stands.

That was the easy part, she thinks, leaning back over the railing and craning her neck up at the row of balconies above her.

It takes her several minutes to climb up the building, and when she finally gets to the twentieth floor, she’s annoyed that she’s a bit breathless, that there’s an actual twinge of pain in her abdomen. She trains regularly, but after a couple weeks of not having to devote most of her waking hours to ‘working,’ she fears she’s already starting to get soft. Weak.

 _You don’t have to think like that_ , she tells herself as she slowly stands, scanning the apartment through the sliding glass doors. _You’re not working for_ him _anymore_.

And she doesn’t miss that at all. There are a thousand worse things than having a tiny cramp.

Gamora draws in a deep breath, recentering herself, and inspects the door until she deems it unlocked, and not set with any alarms.

Gamora moves as cautiously as she can. Her eyes have long since adjusted to the dark, and when she finds the ornate wooden box Peter had described to her, she wonders, again, if this is some sort of trap. Not by Peter’s hands; despite her suspicions, she trusts him enough not to send her right back into prison. Still, she wonders…

One of the doors to the bedrooms creak open, and Gamora rolls into the common area, tucking the box underneath her while she takes cover behind a long couch.

Someone steps out of their bedroom. Gamora holds her breath, slowly lowering her right hand down to her belt.

The figure walks out into the common area, in a slow, shuffling gait.

Gamora’s fingers rest on the hilt of her sword.

Then, she hears a faint scratching sounds, nails on a beard.

And the figure mumbles, “D’ast wind,” and shuffles away from the common area.

Gamora waits until she hears the click of the bedroom door closing before she stands up, the box in her hands.

She glances over at the sliding glass doors, considering them.

 

 

Gamora treads softly on the grass, approaching Peter from behind as he crouches behind a different group of bushes two blocks away from the apartment.

“I found it,” she says simply, holding it out.

“ _AHH!”_ Peter jumps up, whirling around and looking at her, embarrassed. “Holy shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack. For a second, I thought you got caught.”

She rolls her eyes, stepping forward and shoving the box into his arms.

“I said ‘for a second!’” he insists. “How did you get down, anyway? I’ve been here for ten minutes.”

“I walked out the apartment and took the elevator,” she says, relieved that her cramp is gone.

“Wow. Okay, so… first of all, you’re incredible. I saw you going up the balconies, and that was just… I mean, thank you. For coming. ‘Cause I’d never be able to do that.”

“Peter… You’re babbling again,” she says, but can’t help smiling a little at his flustered state.

He brushes some dirt from his jacket, and hands the box back to her. “Here. You can do the honors. You basically did everything.”

“The guard was gone when I reached the lobby,” Gamora informs him as they head to the _Milano_. “Whatever you did to get him to leave, it worked. Thank you.”

He shrugs, “Yeah, well, that was the easy part. Turns out he’s one of those spirit-hunters, so I made up a story that I saw one in the parking garage. He was so excited I almost hope he ends up finding one.”

“Well, I don’t,” Gamora says, her gratitude shifting right back to her usual combined emotions of feeling annoyed and amused whenever she’s around Peter. “Let’s hurry back, I want to make sure the others are all right.”

 

 

Gamora clutches the box as though it’s as important as the orb, as Peter raps on the door of a one-story house in a deliberate beat. They’re not that far away from the building where Gamora took the box, so a part of her still fears being caught. It’s not that she’s worried she’ll be thrown back into prison. She just doesn’t want to lose the box.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with violet skin and long, amber-colored hair answers the door.

“Quill!” he shouts, stepping forward to wrap all four of his arms around Quill’s back. “You made it!”

“Yeah...” Quill manages to say as he’s squeezed tightly. “Couldn’t pass up a visit... Not after I saw your message.”

“What message?” The man lets go of Peter who rubs his sides.

“The message you sent. Asking me to knick back some box for your kid. It’s... that was you who sent the message, right?”

“It wasn’t him,” Gamora says, stepping forward as she holds up the box. “Is this what your daughter is looking for?”

As the tall man gapes at Gamora, a shorter figure darts out of the door from behind him.

“You found it!” the girl squeals, gazing up at Gamora in awe as she hands the box to her. “Thank you so much!”

 

 

“Mislois,” her father says slowly, turning to fixate her with a glare. “Don’t tell me you used my private communications channel to request help from one of my old friends.”

“Eh, it wasn’t so private if I could hack into it,” Mislois says, hugging the box. “And he was a Ravager, just like you. I knew he could do it.”

“Well, I didn’t think I could, so I asked my best friend to help,” Peter explains, gesturing at Gamora with a flourish. “Wait’ll you hear how she got it. It’s _awesome_.”

“Thank you!” the girl says again to Gamora. “Some jerk at school took it from me when I brought it to show the class. He said he wasn’t ever gonna give it back, even after I punched him.”

“Nice,” Peter says, but falls silent when Mislois’s father shifts his glare upon him.

“We didn’t mean to cause any more trouble,” Gamora offers him.

His eyes soften, and he shakes his head, an expression on his face that Gamora can relate to all too well. “This is a family heirloom,” he says, looking at Gamora. “It belonged to my mother. Mislois begged me to let her bring it to class. It’s one of the few things that survived all my years in Yondu’s crew, while I kept watch over this one here.” He claps one of his arms against Peter’s back.

“And now we got it back!” Mislois says happily.

“Next time,” her father says sternly, “talk to me about this first. All right?”

“You would’ve gone to Nova Corps. They wouldn’t have done anything, ‘cause of your record,” Mislois said with a slight frown. She presses a button on the side of the box, and a smile quickly replaces her frown.

It opens slowly, revealing a small statue of a woman, spinning gracefully on a circular platform. Soft music emanates from the box, and for a few moments, Gamora is transfixed by it.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, and Mislois beams up at her.

“Come in for lunch,” her father says. “Though your methods were... not how I’d go about getting it back nowadays, we’re both grateful. Mislois, go help your mother set the table.”

“Oh, we couldn’t intrude,” Gamora says.

“Yes, you could!” Mislois insists, closing the box and dragging Gamora into the house with Peter trailing in behind her. “Then you can tell me all about how you got it!”

Gamora doesn’t know what to say. It’s strange, to see a former Ravager be a devoted father. Something about him reminds her of her own father – her real one, on Zen-Whoberi. That feels like eons ago.

And, though she won’t admit it, Gamora _wants_ to be reminded of that time.

 

 

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” she asks after lunch, as she and Peter leave the house with Mislois and her parents gathered in front of their doorway, waving goodbye. “About me being your best friend?”

Peter grins at her. “’Course I did! Why wouldn’t I mean it?”

“I don’t know. I just...” Gamora smiles back at him. “I thought maybe you’d consider Drax your best friend, and ask him to help.”

The grin fades from Peter’s face, replace with a horrified expression. “Hell no. I mean, Drax is cool and all, but... I knew I could trust you with this.”

“Good. I’m glad you asked me.” Gamora pauses at the end of the walkway, turning to wave back at the family.

“Sorry you ended up doing all the work last night,” Peter says, stopping to join her and wave goodbye. “All that stuff you did... Definitely wasn’t as easy as I thought.”

“You’re right,” Gamora says, “it wasn’t easy.” She takes in Mislois’s beaming face, and the way the girl’s other hand curls protectively around the music box.

As she turns to leave, Gamora adds, “But it was worth it.”


	6. Day Six: Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamora patches up Nebula after she helps out the Guardians in a battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set sometime between Vol. 2 and IW. Gamora and Nebula are in the common area of the _Benatar_ , sitting at the big table. The others are scattered elsewhere around the ship.

When she cleans the deep wound on Nebula’s shoulder, she doesn’t give any kind of reaction. No flinching, no hissing between her teeth – she just watches. Instead, Gamora winces. Though she’s not the one who was hurt in the last battle, it pains her knowing that _she’s_ the reason Nebula isn’t reacting at all.

“Thank you for helping us out,” Gamora tells her, unrolling the bandages from the medical kit on the _Benatar_. They’re getting low on supplies; Gamora notes they’ll need to restock soon.

That will have to wait until after she's finished taking care of her sister.

“You should’ve contacted me sooner,” Nebula tells her, watching as Gamora cuts a large rectangle and place it over her wound.

“I tried to,” Gamora says, holding the bandage in place as she searches for the small roll of tape in the kit. “But that was when I only wanted to check on you.”

Nebula holds up the roll of tape with her other arm. “I’ve been busy.”

Gamora takes the tape, sighing as she secures the bandage in place. “Busy trying to get yourself killed.”

“I _won’t_ ,” Nebula snaps, and Gamora pauses her work, looking right at her sister’s large, unblinking eyes.

For a moment, Gamora is plunged back into the past, remembering how she had exchanged glances with Nebula two days after their first fight. Nebula had been crying, and Gamora wanted to say something to her – apologize, maybe – but then Gamora had remembered that they were always being watched, and she couldn’t afford to look weak.

“Do you need any help?” Gamora asks her, in the present, one hand holding the bandage in place, her other hand poised above it with the last bit of tape.

Nebula blinks. “If I asked, would you really leave your morons to help me?”

Gamora hesitates.

Then she says, “Yes.”

“Are you saying that because you know I won’t ask that of you?”

“No. I would say it because you’re my sister.”

Gamora taps the last bit of the bandage in place.

When she glances back at Nebula, she looks, for the first time in a long time, perplexed. She stands up suddenly while Gamora leans back.

“Probably wouldn’t get that far from them, anyway,” Gamora hears Nebula mutter, as though she were thinking out loud. “The fox alone probably knows twenty different ways to track you down.”

“He’s not a fox, Nebula.”

Nebula turns her attention back to Gamora. “I can do this on my own. You’re better off staying here with these idiots anyway, or else they’d all die within two cycles.”

Gamora smiles, knowing that Nebula means, ‘thank you.’

“You can at least stay with us while you recover,” Gamora says, closing the kit. “We need to do a supply run, and Groot’s been begging us to see the leaves changing color on Xandar. Now seems like a good a time as any.”

Nebula tests out the mobility of her robotic arm, as well as checking to see if her bandage will come off. It remains secure.

“I’m not babysitting the tree,” she mutters as she heads toward the cockpit. “Or any of them.”

Gamora’s smile grows a bit wider, because she knows what Nebula really means.


	7. Day Seven: Final

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamora enjoys some downtime with her family.

Gamora leans back in her chair, and watches her family.

Nebula sits beside her, having surprisingly – and begrudgingly – joined the Guardians in their post-mission celebration in a bar of questionable repute. Nebula eyes the drink before her with suspicion, and glares at Drax while he downs his own mug of A’askavaarian ale. After glancing around the room, Nebula takes a sip, and looks absolutely disgusted. But Gamora notices that her posture relaxes an inch, and she slides her drink over to Drax.

Peter’s engaged in a discussion with the bartender. Four years ago, Gamora would’ve assumed he was attempting to flirt with the bartender – but now, even without her enhanced hearing, Gamora knows he’s trying to convince her to play his music.  
  
Gamora shifts her attention over to Groot, sitting on her other side. It’s amazing how fast he’s grown – Gamora swears he was just tall enough to tug at the hem of her coat mere months ago. Rocket had forbidden him from drinking after ‘The Incident,’ which was the night Peter referred to months ago when Groot stole a bottle of Klangian wine Peter had bought and kept on the ship. A glass of water sits forgotten in front of Groot as he plays his game. Gamora nudges Groot’s shoulder, and wonder of wonders, he actually looks up at her. “Having fun?” she asks. He nods, and resumes playing.

“Eh, at least he ain’t drinkin’,” Rocket says with a shrug. He’s sitting on Groot’s left, tightening a screw on a tiny device, and he stands up on his chair, holding it out to Gamora from over Groot’s back as he slouches forward. “Thanks, Rocket,” Gamora says, taking her repaired comm link, and his ear twitches as he grumbles. “Don’t mention it. And don’t go breakin’ it again, neither.”

“I know this song!” Mantis cries on the opposite end of the table, jumping up as Peter’s music starts playing over the speakers. “Gamora, let’s go dance!” She hurries over to the center of the room as the other patrons cover their ears, grumbling and heading to their seats. Gamora slides back her chair, and gets up from her seat.

She pauses by Drax’s chair on the way to the center of the bar, as he slams down the drink Nebula had passed to him. “It’s still hard to believe you enjoy such an inane activity,” he points out, “When we met, I never would have expected you to be a dancer.” Gamora pauses, thinking about that for a moment, then says, “I thought the same thing about myself.” “Still, I can tell you enjoy yourself when you dance. It’s a good thing.” Gamora smiles at him, and says, “I think so, too.”

She joins Mantis and Peter in the center of the room, both of them jumping up and down in time with the beat, Peter moving his fingers dramatically as though he’s playing some kind of instrument.

“It’s the final countdown!” Mantis shouts along with the song, and as Gamora moves along to the song, spinning around and mouthing the lyrics, she catches glimpses of each member of her family, all of them happy, alive, and free.

Gamora has never felt more at peace.


End file.
